Ilaris
When I woke, the hut was clean. No sign of the decadence of last night.
All evidence of Killian gone as though he’d never been there at all.
Except the door was cracked open, letting in the morning light and the warm, salty scent of the beach.
But a packed bag sat on the table. Curious, I opened it and found almost all the food in the hut had been placed neatly inside: salted fish, vegetables, dried pork, kindling, and water pouches.
He’d been thorough, which meant he was serious about leaving together. So why wasn’t he here?
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I opened the door wide, and deep voices drew me up short. My chest went tight, and a memory of that thud thud thud rang in my ears, sending shudders up the marrow of my being. It only reinforced my desire to get off the island as soon as possible.
I stepped outside, and a quick glance at the beach left me reeling.
Killian and Harlan sat around a fire, talking animatedly as though they’d known each other for years. Jasper dashed past me, a blur of black, headed toward the crash and hiss of the surf.
An emotion moved through me. Hot and unwelcome. A wave of possessiveness sharp as a pointed blade. Was I jealous that they were enjoying each other’s company? I had found Killian. He was my discovery. A stab of fear went through me. What would happen when others found out about him?
I hadn’t considered what the world might want with the last giant. My feet moved faster, slowing only when I reached soft sand. My voice came out hurried and breathy. “I didn’t know you knew each other,” I called, interrupting.
Both of them looked at me, but my gaze went to Killian.
Those gold eyes seemed to hold me in place, and a fevered flush heated my skin as I remembered the kiss.
Not exactly a kiss, more a brush of my lips against his, and that zing that had shuddered through me.
He’d rejected it—not pushed me away, he simply hadn’t moved toward me—and I felt that distance now.
He was no longer my own, my discovery. The world would see him, and I’d be left behind.
Clawing for notoriety as I always had. Could he read that in my expression?
Did he know what I feared to say, refused to utter aloud?
“We just met,” Killian said. “Harlan agreed to take us north, only as far as he can go in a day.”
“Only if you’re ready,” Harlan added. “You came to see the ruins. I will escort you there first and answer all your questions.”
I glanced over my shoulder, as though the things behind that door had escaped and were hurtling toward the shore. But there was nothing out there, just palm trees waving in the breeze and the gentle quiet of the island.
“I saw enough yesterday,” I said. “I’m ready. We can go now.”
Killian stood, his height impressive. “I left the provisions in the hut.”
He strode away, still shirtless, the muscles on his back shifting as he moved. Today the fire wasn’t pulsing under his skin, but he still needed clothes to make him less conspicuous.
“Eat,” Harlan interrupted, handing me a leaf with fish and bread on it.
I let my bag slide off my shoulder and settled down on the rock Killian had vacated.
Harlan leaned forward, voice dropping. “Do you know him? Where did he come from?”
Here was the moment of truth, but I struggled with what to say, even though Harlan’s concern seemed fatherly. “He hasn’t bothered me, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s. . . searching for something.”
Harlan cleared his throat. “He reminds me of a nomad. We get them here from time to time, traveling to hidden places in the world, seeking treasure, mischief. I wanted to be sure he wasn’t bothering you, but I’m surprised you want to leave so quickly. Yesterday you were so eager.”
I took a bite, considering what to say. “The ruins weren’t what I thought they were. I feel unsettled and alone here. I don’t know what it is—the music, the mist—I think I understand why no one comes here. Except you. Why doesn’t it bother you?”
“You feel it too, the old spirits, the aura of this place. There’s no shame in it.
It’s ancient for a reason: because we aren’t meant to be here.
No one is. The Great Sundering was a punishment.
I didn’t tell you, but I used to come here with my son and daughter.
I thought they would learn to appreciate the history, the intelligence that was left behind.
But I was wrong. My daughter spoke of voices, whispers in the rock, music in the water.
It drove her mad. My wife was furious. When my daughter died, she blamed me, took my son, and moved far away.
She wouldn’t tell me where, but I suspect she went to the city.
Broke my heart, it did. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I started coming out here, searching for answers, I suppose.
The quiet gives me peace, but the music—yesterday you said you heard me playing. ”
“I did, but you claimed it was the water.”
Harlan shifted toward the mist. “It helps me understand. There’s something under there, in the water, crying its song. Music is the only language it knows. That’s why we don’t go in the water at night.”
“And the mist?”
“That mystery hasn’t been solved, and I’m sure there are many others.”
I nodded, unable to speak about what I’d seen. “I’m sorry about your daughter. And your son.”
“We all carry something heavy. One of the reasons I stay here is because I hope that, one day, my son will come looking for me. That he’ll want to hear another side to the story. Even though deep in my heart, I know it’s best that he stay far, far away.”
“Yesterday you mentioned another scholar. Benjamin. How long did he stay when he came?”
“Oh, that was coming on twenty years ago. He stayed a few weeks or so.”
“And he stayed in one of the huts?”
Harlan nodded.
“I was hoping he left behind some notes, something, anything to explain what he was after. I came to translate runes, but it’s best I leave.”
Harlan glanced up the beach, toward the huts. “If you change your mind about. . . that man, let me know.”
He was kind. I felt guilty for not revealing the truth about Killian, or what I was doing with him.
“I appreciate that. I think I’ll feel better once I leave this island.”
But would I? Where, exactly, was Killian taking me? I hadn’t considered it last night, but now, if we were going into the heart of the unknown, I wasn’t ready for that adventure. I hadn’t worn my armor, and my hand went to my ribs.
“It’s time,” Killian’s deep voice came.
Harlan tossed sand over the fire, smothering it, but I dared not look at Killian. Instead, I walked toward the waves, calling, “Jasper.”
He bounded out of the water, shaking his fur, droplets hanging on his horns like crystals. His wet fur puffed up, and for a moment he looked bigger than he had yesterday, as though he’d grown. Was my vision playing tricks on me? It was just the water. He was a puppy. Not. . . growing.
The boat wobbled as we climbed in, a bit too small for all of us.
I sat in the middle with the bags, with Harlan on one end, Jasper at his feet, and Killian at the other, the boat dipping with his weight.
He also took an oar, his back to me as we set sail.
It was different from yesterday morning with Harlan.
Tension hung in the air, especially as we drifted into the mist.
Instead of clearing and letting us through, it clung.
Cold. Eerie. Whispers grew louder, humming near my ears until I flinched, batting away the heated breath even though there was nothing there at all.
The thickness intensified. As I clutched my bag, I wondered if the mist wasn’t for us at all, but for him.
Killian.
He was the last giant after all, one who’d been punished, cut off from this world.
Had the gods forgiven him for his transgressions or were they still furious, determined to punish him to the bitter end?
And if that was the case, what did it mean for me?
If the blood oath I’d accidentally invoked wouldn’t release me, would I be forced to endure?
As handsome and as tantalizing as he was, I needed to refocus my efforts on understanding the runes, understanding him—his culture, his background, and the magic that whispered around him.
Only then would I be able to rip myself free from the darkness that haunted him.
The need felt so great, there in the surrendering fog, that my hands went to my bag, ready to search my journal for answers.
Beams of sunlight broke through, shattering the mist with a halo of gold that lit up the grassy slopes.
Light danced on the snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance, displaying the expansiveness of the land.
From the water, it was breathtaking, a sight unknown to me in the city.
I recalled the poppy fields, the wild lands, flat and open, covered in flowers as far as the eye could see.
A sound like a sigh drew my attention back to Killian.
He sat upright, shoulders tight, tension rigid in his body.
Despite my promise to distance myself from him, something stirred deep within my gut.
What was it like for him to see the world again after so long?
Or had it felt just like yesterday—he closed his eyes, awoke, and the world had changed all in the blink of an eye?
A splash drew my attention back to the water. A dark shape surfaced, and a wide fish-like tail slapped the water so hard it sent a wave rushing toward the boat.
“Brace yourselves,” Harlan called.
The boat rocked back and forth violently as the creature swam toward us. I leaned over, water splashing over my fingers as stories of sea monsters pressed at the corners of my mind. A long, black shape darted toward us. It was almost as wide as the boat, and unlike any fish I’d ever seen.
Panic clawed into my throat. My fingers tightened, then loosened as I snatched them back, tucking them into my lap.
Jasper growled low in his throat, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
“What is that?” I asked, hoping, just hoping Harlan would say it was a harmless fish and common in these waters.
Instead, he started chanting, low words under his breath that sounded like a garble of nonsense. Killian twisted around fast, eyes blazing as they locked on me, as though I were the cause. There was something violent in his expression as his gaze shifted to Harlan, then to the thing in the water.
“Killian,” I whispered, needing something from him. What? I wasn’t sure. An explanation? Assurance?
The boat lurched, and we tipped wildly to one side. I recalled the words of Yonnie, the reminder never to go into the water at night. What about now? In the daylight? Would the monster eat us alive?
Harlan uttered one word. Sharp. Commanding.
The creature recoiled, shrinking away from the boat, a black spot sinking down into the water.
A sigh of relief escaped me along with a burning question. What language was Harlan speaking? What command had he given the creature?
With a roar, it exploded from the water, a thick, serpentine body, legs waving, a wide maw hissing before it turned around and dove back under the waves. A wall of water splashed over the boat, soaking all of us from head to toe.
Harlan dug in his oar. “Row,” he called.
Killian rowed. The boat shot forward.
I held on, willing us to reach the shore before something else foul and unsavory came after us.
We were almost there, the taste of the earth, the surety of something solid underneath my feet so close. Just a few more feet now.
Two of the serpentine beasts reared out of the water. A scream tore from my lips as their slick black bodies blocked out the light. They waved centipede-like legs as they hissed. When they dove back into the water, the boat rocked, sending waves of water over us.
“Row, row, row!” Harlan shouted.
But Killian dropped his oar overboard and stood, upsetting the delicate balance. Fire rippled up his skin, cracks of it exploding across his back as he fisted his hands together.
“No,” I shouted.
We were too close to the shore, too close to the village. People would see us. See him and his fire. Desperation came, but a wave of heat knocked me back. Dimly I heard shouting, commands in a garbled language, and the hissing as those beasts swam near.
Then. . . nothing but an inferno.
Fire blazed across the water, engulfing the creatures. It scattered across the docks, burning the ropes and all the boats bobbing innocently in the waves. Fire blazed up the grass, catching, spreading.
Shouts and screams came. Smoke stung my throat. My eyes burned, and the scent of charred, fishy flesh made my stomach churn.
Then the boat itself was burning.
Jasper barked. Harlan shouted. But Killian was nothing but a pillar of fire, and we were all about to be caught in his inferno.
The bags meant nothing.
I jumped over the side of the boat, intending to swim for the shore. Cold water shocked my lungs. Salt stung my eyes. I kicked toward the surface, toward air.
Something wrapped around my ankle and dragged me down.
The mirror of water above me rippled, flickering orange light. My lungs screamed, and I thrashed, kicking at whatever held me. It must have tasted my fear, growing strong off my desperation, for the tug on my leg tightened, and its speed increased, taking me away from the surface.
Pressure built in my chest, my hands flailing. The fading light above me grew smaller.
Then.
Darkness.